Adventures in Babysitting
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: "You two deserve some time to yourselves and I want to hang out with my baby brother, ear infection and all. You're not imposing on me, I offered my services. Neal will be fine, I will be fine, and you two are going to have to actually wait for a table if you don't leave right now." (or, Emma offers to babysit her sick baby brother and hijinks ensue.)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Adventures in Babysitting  
**Summary: **"You two deserve some time to yourselves and I want to hang out with my baby brother, ear infection and all. You're not imposing on me, I offered my services. Neal will be fine, I will be fine, and you two are going to have to actually wait for a table if you don't leave right now."  
**Spoilers:** Set post-3x22, "There's No Place Like Home."  
**Rating/Warning: **K+, for language, mostly. Captain Swan & Charming Family fluff, because why not?  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. Hiatus will be the death of me, however, so this is me trying to stay sane in the absence of new material.  
**Author's Note:** I have no idea where this insistent little plotbunny came from, but it just lodged itself in my brain and refused to leave. For my own sanity, I had to indulge it. I had originally planned for this to be a oneshot but the plotbunny had other ideas, so it ended up being a four-chapter minific. Feedback thrills me to pieces! Enjoy. :)

* * *

"You know, we don't have to do this tonight, Emma."

Emma Swan heaved a quiet sigh while wishing she could go bang her head against the apartment's brick wall right behind her. That would have been far more painless than sitting through this argument again.

She'd had this very argument so many times over the last five days that she'd actually lost count. Well, it wasn't so much an argument, per se. It was more like she'd caught her parents in a particularly weak moment, and both Snow and David had been trying their hardest to get out of it ever since.

"We do have to do this tonight," Emma argued wearily because holy freakin' crap, one would think she was trying to force them to rob a bank or something, for all the backpedaling they'd been doing. "We agreed that since Henry was going to Regina's for the night, it would be a perfect time for me to watch the little squirt while you and David go out to dinner." She kind of loved that her affectionate nickname for her little brother had become so commonplace that nobody batted an eye at it anymore. "An actual, cheesy married-couple dinner with candlelight and soft instrumental music and no same-age daughter and no newborn son. We _agreed_ to it. I believe I even have it in _writing_."

What she actually had was a list of Storybrooke restaurants in Snow's handwriting that she and David had been meaning to try – who knew there were enough for a list?! – and Emma's own scribbled notes listing the date and time of the reservation she'd had to make herself at one of the restaurants – chosen at random – because they were very clearly never going to do it themselves. That, however, was beside the point.

"Yes, but we agreed to it five days ago," Snow returned, making Emma roll her eyes. She knew what was coming next, she just knew it. "Your brother didn't have an ear infection five days ago."

And there it was. "Actually, he did," Emma deadpanned. "We just didn't know he did."

"Emma–"

"No, seriously. Yeah, the squirt has an ear infection, but you know what? He's still going to have an ear infection whether the two of you eat dinner here or go out to eat." She softened her voice for her next point, because she knew her mother's hesitance was coming from a place of concern. "And he's still going to have an ear infection whether or not the two of you take a couple hours off and let me handle it."

Snow didn't know what to say to that. Emma smiled to herself. Victory was within her reach, so close she could almost touch it.

But her mother still had an ace up her sleeve, apparently. "He's not the only one I'm worried about, though." The corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. "The ear infection has made him abnormally cranky."

"And you're worried he's going to run me ragged," Emma breathed, light dawning on Marblehead.

Now it was Emma's turn to be speechless. Snow's hesitation wasn't coming from a desire to stay home and take care of her sick son as she'd thought. Not completely, anyway. Mixed in there too was a desire not to dump the care of a sick, needy, cranky baby on his big sister.

Snow's concern for her was … touching. So touching that Emma felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes and knew she needed to regain the upper hand _now_ before she caved.

She'd made her parents _reservations_, for crying out loud. They were going.

Emma cleared her throat and looked her mother in the eye. "I'm going to be fine for a couple of hours, too. We're both going to be just fine. I can handle a cranky baby. I can feed him and I can give him his medicine. I can play with him if he feels like playing, and I can have him sound asleep by the time the two of you come home. You and David need some married people time, and I need some big sister/baby brother time. So, we're doing this tonight, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

Now Snow looked touched, and once again, Emma smiled to herself. The scales had tipped back in Emma's favor, and it was all because she had _nailed_ that little speech, if she did say so herself.

Snow took a moment to further consider the proposal in front of her but just as Emma suspected would be the case, mother eventually relented to persuasive daughter. "Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?" she asked, reaching up to cup Emma's cheek in her palm.

Those damn tears were pricking the backs of Emma's eyes again. Deciding she quickly needed to wrest back her emotional control, she went in for the joke. "Damn straight I'm wonderful, and don't you forget it."

Snow smirked as she ran a gentle thumb along Emma's cheek. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Two hours later, Emma was trying her damnedest to usher her very nicely dressed parents out the apartment door. It was not an easy task, what with a sleeping Neal settled in her arms, Snow telling her for the hundredth time where the squirt's ear drops were, and her father telling her for about the fiftieth time that if she needed them for anything, she could call and they'd come right home.

Seriously, head against the brick wall. She shifted Neal in her arms to free one hand, which she used to grab her father's dinner jacket. "Go," she said, practically shoving the jacket into his hand. "Eat. I know where his ear drops are and I'm not going to need to call you."

"Thank you for offering to do this, Emma," David said, shrugging on his jacket before holding Snow's coat for her. "It was really a lovely gesture but we don't have to–" He stopped short when Emma groaned.

Oh, _hell_ no. After working so hard to win this argument with her mother, she was not about to repeat it with her father. "Oh my God, not you, too! Yes, we do have to do this tonight. You two deserve some time to yourselves and I want to hang out with my baby brother, ear infection and all. You're not imposing on me, I offered my services. Neal will be fine, I will be fine, and you two are going to have to actually wait for a table if you don't leave right now."

She'd finally, _finally_ gotten both of them into their coats and to the door. Snow opened the door and stepped over the threshold. Just when Emma thought she was home free, her mother shattered that illusion. "We won't be long."

Oh, sweet Jesus. Yes, yes they were going to be long, because Emma wasn't about to let them rush through their dinner date. "I do not expect you back here for at least three hours. At _least_, you got me? You guys are supposed to _enjoy_ this evening, and you can't exactly enjoy it if you both end up with heartburn from rushing through the meal."

Emma glanced up at the clock; it was just coming up on five-thirty. Their reservation was at six. They really needed to move. "Three. Hours," she reiterated. "If you try to come home any earlier than nine, I will kick you right back out again."

Snow and David exchanged a troubled, pained glance. Emma's breath caught in her throat at the sheer love and concern in their eyes, concern that she recognized as not only for Neal but for her, too.

And then it hit her: this was the first time either one of them had left Neal for more than a few minutes at a time. It was also the first time since Emma's return from the past that they were leaving her for a decent length of time.

Separation anxiety swirled in their eyes and was now abundantly clear to her on their faces. Emma recognized now that it was that separation anxiety that had made them seemingly unable to take the steps necessary to leave both their babies and take some time for themselves.

"Seriously," Emma said, softening her voice, "we're both going to be fine. I know that my saying that isn't going to convince you, so how about I just say that if we're not fine, you guys will be the first ones I call."

At that, her parents visibly relaxed. "Thanks again, kiddo," David said as he stepped over the threshold and stood next to his wife.

The pet name made Emma smile. (Who knew that Emma would grow to like pet names? If someone had told her two years ago that one day she'd actually like being called kiddo, she would have had the person committed.)

"We'll be back no earlier than nine," Snow amended, making the concession to spare her daughter's sanity. "Help yourself to anything you want for dinner."

Again, Emma thought she was home free. Again, she was mistaken. After a beat, Snow asked, "I told you where his medicine is, didn't I?"

Head, meet wall. "Yeah, you did," Emma sighed. "Now go! Your reservation isn't going to hold itself."

After a couple more minutes of stalling, Snow and David finally headed down the stairs. Emma closed the door behind them and released a heavy breath of relief. "Our parents are impossible, squirt," she murmured to her sleeping brother, smiling down at his little face.

Still, she couldn't find it within herself to be angry. They'd only been so annoying and so hesitant to leave because they loved their kids so much. Truthfully, she would have put up with thousands of those arguments if it meant having her loving parents in her life.

"They're impossible, all right," she repeated to her little brother, "but they're also the best parents we could ask for."

Since Neal was sleeping peacefully, Emma crossed the room and gently set him down in his bassinet. Then, after making sure he was going to stay asleep, she made her way into the kitchen to comb through the cabinets and decide what she wanted for her own supper. With Henry at Regina's and her brother's dinner being a bottle, she was only cooking for one.

She'd just decided on ziti and a salad – because it was quick and easy – when her baby brother started to whimper. She walked back over to the bassinet and sure enough, he was squirming and one little balled fist was swiping at his right ear, the one that was infected. "It's all right, squirt," she murmured, rubbing her hand across his belly to let him know that she knew he was hurting and that she was going to get something to help him. "I'll be right back with your drops."

Emma had taken no more than three steps towards the bathroom when her brother started wailing. She doubled back to the bassinet and scooped him up, resting his stomach on her chest and his head on her shoulder and rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him. "I know, Neal, I know," she murmured as she carried him into the bathroom.

And she did know. One of her earliest memories was actually of an ear infection she had when she was about three. _Memory_ actually might have been too strong a term for it; it was nothing more than a flash of lying on a sofa, crying, and holding one little hand over her throbbing ear.

Her poor baby brother was in that pain now, an ache so painful that she could remember it from a time in early childhood most adults had long forgotten. Her heart ached when she saw his little fist continue to swipe at his ear, an instinctual effort to soothe the pain in any way he could.

The drops were in the medicine cabinet, right where her mother had said they would be. She shook the bottle and then squeezed it in her hand for a minute or two to warm the medicine up; the last thing she needed was to cause her baby brother even more pain by dropping room temperature medicine into his already sore ear.

The second she tried to put the drops in, though, Neal's crying grew louder. He turned his head out of her reach whenever she got near his ear with the dropper. After a couple of tries, she even tried settling him down on his back on the sofa, thinking that maybe all she needed was two free hands.

Neal was having none of it. Emma didn't know if he knew that the dropper meant ear drops and he didn't like them or if he just didn't want her having any contact whatsoever with his ear, but he was having absolutely none of it.

"I know it hurts, squirt, but if you just let me get these in, it won't hurt anymore," she said almost helplessly.

Wonderful. She was reduced to attempting to reason with a newborn now.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Emma took stock of the situation. What she really needed was another hand to hold the squirt still.

Henry was at Regina's, so he was out. She was not about to call her parents because damn it, they were going to have a single evening to themselves, come hell or high water. Besides, she only needed someone for like, a second; once she got the drops into Neal's ear, the pain would subside and he'd stop crying.

And then it came to her. She picked up her crying brother, strode over to the counter with a purpose, and grabbed her cell phone.

Emma just hoped he had his phone on him. It was an old phone of hers, so it didn't do much beyond make calls and send texts, but it suited their purposes. Truth be told, even that was a bit too much sometimes; the technology was still so new to him that more often than not, he completely forgot to take it with him when he went out.

The stars must have been aligned correctly tonight or something, because he answered on the second ring. "Swan?"

"Killian?" she asked over her brother's wailing. "Listen, I was wondering if you could come over here for a minute ..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Y'all once again are amazing. Thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites! Here's the next part!

* * *

Neal's cries were so loud that Emma barely heard the knock on the apartment door. Flustered but relieved that help was finally here, she whipped the door open to reveal a smirking Killian Jones. "Your brother has a very powerful set of lungs, Swan. I could hear the young lad from the bottom of the staircase."

Any other day, Emma would have joked right back with him. Today, though, her patience was completely shot. "Yeah, tell me about it," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "He's been crying in my ear for the past twenty minutes."

Baby wails in her ear could have been avoided, of course, if she'd just put Neal down, but she hadn't wanted to put him down. She remembered quite well how terrifying and _lonely_ it felt to be young and sick and have no idea when – or even if – help was coming. So she'd just held him, giving him as much comfort as she could, even if it meant that all she got for her troubles was baby wails in her ear.

The amusement sparkling in Killian's eyes instantly vanished the second he caught the weariness in hers. She turned away from the door and Killian followed her into the apartment, easing the door closed behind him. "Even your 'magic touch' hasn't worked?" he asked.

Seriously? Did he really think she'd be letting Neal wail if either of her magic touches had worked?

"No," she answered, wincing at the helpless tone in her voice. She'd tried the real-world magic touch first, running a gentle finger up and down Neal's forehead. For whatever reason, that usually quieted him, but not today. When it was clear that her baby brother wasn't having it, she'd tried an actual magic touch. The only problem was that her magic had apparently not progressed to healing yet because that didn't work, either.

She heaved an exasperated sigh, hating the fact that she'd been unable to quiet her brother. "He's in pain, Killian. All he knows is that his ear hurts. He doesn't know why it hurts and he has no idea how to make it stop."

"And that's why you need me?"

"Yep." She shifted her brother in her arms so she could show Killian the bottle of ear drops. "I just need you to help me hold him still so I can give him his medicine."

From the confused expression on the pirate's face, it was clear that he didn't understand how the little bottle was supposed to help the squirt's ear pain. Sweet mother of God, Emma didn't have the patience to explain modern medicine to him right now. "Just … follow my lead, okay?"

Though he still clearly had no idea what the plan was, Killian nodded. "Of course, love."

Emma carried Neal back to the sofa, Killian following along at her heels. She instructed him to drape the squirt's blanket across the cushions. When he did so, Emma eased down on the couch and gently set her brother down on the blanket so he was lying on his back. "Now, I just need you to hold him still for me," she said to Killian.

The pirate looked at the crying baby and gulped. Emma hid a smile at the pure panic that flashed in his eyes and then allowed the smile to show when he wordlessly squared his shoulders a moment later. One squirming little infant was not about to best Killian Jones, it seemed.

He removed his hook and set it on the coffee table. Then, using his right hand and left arm, he gently held the wriggling baby in place. "There we go, young lad," he murmured to Neal as Emma again shook the hand-warmed bottle of ear drops. "Just stay still a moment for your sister."

With Killian holding him, Emma was free to gently turn her brother's little head. With a single swift motion that came from memory of treating Henry's ear infections if not actual practice, she placed three drops into her baby brother's ear.

The moment the first drop made contact with the infected ear canal, Neal screamed and started wailing louder. "Shh, shh," Emma murmured, tears leaping into her own eyes at the sight of her brother in pain and wriggling in Killian's gentle grip. She remembered how the drops hurt at first, just because any contact with the sore area hurt, but after the initial flash of pain, the drops would work their real-world magic and soothe the ache.

Not that that made it any easier to watch her brother's struggle or listen to his cries.

She met Killian's panicked eyes and sent him a teary smile. "It's all right," she said, both to Killian and Neal, as she tucked a tiny tuft of cotton into her brother's ear to hold the drops in. She gave Killian a nod, telling him it was okay to let the baby go, and then she scooped Neal up into her arms, holding him tightly.

Killian watched her, eyes still wide, as she tried to soothe her brother's tears. "You'll be all right soon, I promise," she said, resting the baby's head on her shoulder and rubbing circles over his back.

Sure enough, Neal slowly calmed down. "There we go, squirt," she murmured when his cries had faded to little whimpers. "You're all right now, aren't you?" She shifted him in her arms so that he was lying with his head in the crook of her elbow.

With her brother quiet and now amenable, Emma decided again to try her real-world magic touch. As she slowly ran her finger down her brother's forehead, she was aware of Killian moving beside her. He folded the blanket, set it on the arm of the couch, and shifted closer to Emma while she soothed her exhausted baby brother.

It was only when Neal closed his teary eyes that she tore her gaze from her brother's little face. And when she glanced up at Killian, she was surprised to see awe and adoration swimming in his eyes. "What is it?" she asked, feeling a blush tinting her cheeks.

He blinked as if coming out of a daydream. Then he seemed to catch himself and smirked at her. "Nothing, love. It's just that you looked quite at home there for a minute."

Her heart did a flip-flop in her chest. "Yeah, keep dreaming, pirate," she said even as her mind took off in directions that utterly terrified her. If he thought she looked at home holding a baby …

She shook the notion right out of her head. _Way too soon, Swan_, _way_ _too soon_. Hell, she didn't even know how to define exactly what she and Killian _were_ yet, never mind thinking that far in the future.

His smirk grew wider. "Always."

She rolled her eyes but once again her heart flip-flopped in her chest. Not so long ago, a comment like that would have freaked her the hell right out. Not so long ago, a comment like that would have triggered her fight-or-flight instinct, and not so long ago, she would have fled. Now, though … now she was able to see the possibility in it. She was able see the possibility _and_ the promise, and though it still kind of freaked her out, she no longer had any desire to run away from it.

Emma let out a soft breath and glanced back down at her baby brother. The drops had soothed the ear pain, at least temporarily, and his tantrum had exhausted him. He was completely calm now, sleeping lightly. Smiling, she leaned forward, gently placed him back down in the bassinet, and then slumped back against the sofa in relief.

Killian also let out a breath of relief. "Now what?" he asked, leaning back with her.

"Now? We sit back, relax, and hope that was the last of the squirt's tantrum."

"What if it wasn't?"

"Then we deal with it." She gave him a somewhat weary smile. "It's called babysitting."

"Babysitting, hmm?" Killian took her hand and threaded their fingers together. Again, Emma's heart leaped in her chest. This kind of contact was also something she would have run away from not so long ago. Instead, she ran her thumb along his. "I think I like this 'babysitting.'"

As if on cue, Neal started whimpering again.

Emma sighed. "You spoke too soon, pirate."

* * *

This time, Emma had no idea why Neal was crying. Well, aside from the fact that he was sick and he was a baby. That was reason enough, she supposed, but there had to be something that had triggered his latest crying jag. He'd been perfectly calm for a few minutes there, so something had to have happened, though Emma hadn't the slightest clue what that something was.

He hadn't needed a change but Emma changed him anyway. He'd refused a bottle, which made sense considering Snow had nursed him before she left in an effort to make the evening easier for her daughter. She'd tried everything she could think of to calm him and still, the baby continued to wail.

For thirty solid minutes.

"Come _on_, squirt," she murmured in frustration as she paced back and forth across the apartment, bouncing him in her arms.

Killian sat at the kitchen island, watching helplessly as Emma tried to quiet her brother. It wasn't until she turned around that he recognized something in the coloring of the lad's face that hadn't been there before. He might not know much about babies but he'd seen many a fever in his time and he could recognize a rising one from a mile away. "Love, how long has he been on his medication?"

"Uh, two days," Emma answered distractedly. "Why?"

"Did he have a fever before?"

That caught her full attention. She blinked at Killian before turning a look of comprehension on her baby brother. She rested her hand on his forehead and sure enough, his skin was uncomfortably warm to the touch.

Snow had told her that Neal's fever had been rising and falling a degree or so since Whale had diagnosed him with the ear infection. It wasn't a high fever at all, not even high enough to be treated with baby fever reducer, but it seemed to be on one of its upswings now. Her poor brother, then, was crying because he was hot … uncomfortably hot. "Oh, squirt," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

She knew she needed to relieve her brother's fever but she didn't quite know how. If it were Henry, she would have given him some Advil or Tylenol but her newborn baby brother was far too young for that.

"May I, love?" Killian asked, standing up from the island.

Emma nodded. At first she thought he was going to take Neal from her but instead he stepped past her and opened the cabinet under the sink. Before she could ask what he was looking for, he pulled out the infant bathtub that fit in the sink. "Is this his?"

She nodded again, suddenly understanding what he meant to do. She stripped off her brother's onesie and removed his diaper while Killian filled the tub with lukewarm water. "All right, squirt, into the bath," she said softly as she settled him in the tub.

"There we go, Swan," Killian said softly. Then he stepped away, heading straight for the bathroom. Emma heard him opening the cabinets and soon enough he returned with a washcloth in his hand. He handed the cloth over to Emma, who accepted it with a smile.

She bathed her baby brother, dipping the cloth into the water and running it over his little body. Slowly, Neal's cries dwindled to shuddering breaths. The redness in his cheeks, which must have been what Killian had seen from across the room, faded as she continued to treat him with a baby version of a compress. Killian headed back to the bathroom and returned with a towel for when the little prince was ready to come out of the bath.

Once Neal was sufficiently calm and the heat had stopped radiating from his skin, Emma lifted him from the tub. "Thank you," Emma said to Killian as she laid Neal on the towel, swaddled him in it, and scooped him back up. "I never would have figured out that his fever was rising."

"Yes, you would have," he replied, smiling.

She smiled back then stepped past him and into her parents' room to dry her brother off and change him into a lighter onesie. When she emerged with a quiet – and cool – Neal, Killian smiled at them both. "He looks much better."

"He _sounds_ much better," Emma corrected, making Killian chuckle.

They migrated back to the sofa and eased down next to each other. When Emma tried to put Neal in the bassinet, he fussed. It was only after trying a couple of different times to set him down that she realized he simply wanted to be held.

Once again, she couldn't find it within her heart to not hold him. After spending so much of her childhood having no one to hold her when she wanted to be held, she couldn't – and wouldn't – deny her baby brother the simple solace of being wrapped in someone's arms. "All right, Neal, I get it," she murmured, making herself comfortable on the sofa.

He looked up at her with his big blue eyes and sniffled. And she sniffled, too, reminded of all those times she'd wanted this kind of comfort and never received it.

Killian almost hesitantly wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She tensed for a moment and then relaxed, leaning into him. She heard him draw in a breath of surprise, but neither one of them said a word. Killian was probably afraid speaking would break some sort of spell and Emma didn't want to talk at all. She just allowed him to give her what she herself was giving her brother: comfort in an embrace.

"You all right, Swan?" he asked after a long moment.

"Yeah," she replied, though she wasn't sure it was actually true. She made no move to pull out of his embrace.

The three of them sat cuddled together for a few minutes longer. Then Emma's stomach rumbled, reminding her that dinner was long overdue. She tried a final time to set Neal in his bassinet just long enough to cook and for her and Killian to eat, but he started whimpering again.

Heaving a sigh, she turned to Killian. "Will you hold him while I get dinner on the stove?"

Panic again flashed into his eyes at the thought of holding a wriggling little Neal. She smiled to set him at ease and gestured for him to hold out his arms. He did so, and she placed her baby brother in the pirate's grasp. Killian's arms wrapped around Neal as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And all of a sudden, Emma understood why he'd been taken aback by the sight of her cuddling Neal earlier; he looked quite at home holding a baby, too.

Way_ too soon, Swan_, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to clear it. Then she stepped away from both of them to get dinner started.

Unfortunately, Neal had other ideas. The second she was out of his sight, he began to fuss. Killian tried to soothe him the way Emma had, with a gentle thumb over the forehead, but he continued to whimper.

After getting the pot of water on the stove to boil, Emma stepped back into the living room. As soon as she was within Neal's line of vision, he went quiet. _Oh_ no. Why did she get the feeling that her quick and easy dinner was about to become far more complicated?

To test her hypothesis, she slowly backed out of his sight. Neal whimpered. She took two steps forward and he calmed. Yep, just as she thought; even if he stayed in Killian's arms, a tiny baby was going to be hovering around her as she fixed dinner.

Killian shot her an apologetic look as she plopped back down on the couch in defeat. "Apologies, Swan, but it seems as if the young prince only has eyes for his big sister."

She heaved a sigh, staring into her baby brother's big blue eyes that she swore were sparkling with mischief. "You're going to be the death of me, aren't you, squirt?"

He gurgled at her in response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Please have and keep your toothbrushes handy, because this chapter and the next are so sugary I can hardly stand it. As always, I apologize for nothing. :)

* * *

What Killian knew about babies could fit in the palm of Emma's hand, and what he knew about cooking ziti could fit in the other. So when Emma stood up to continue cooking dinner only for Killian followed her with Neal in his arms, she had been anticipating a really aggravating time getting dinner on the table with the two of them underfoot.

Killian, however, didn't get to be a cunning pirate without having some common sense. Instead of standing beside her and hovering in and out of her orbit as she cooked, he took a seat at the kitchen island. Neal could still see his big sister, but neither one of them were at all in her way.

That was a decidedly less annoying place for them to be, so Emma sent him a grateful smile.

He smiled back. "What's for dinner, love?"

"I decided on ziti before the squirt had his first tantrum," Emma replied as she emptied a jar of sauce into a pot. She glanced over her shoulder at Killian and her brother as she set the pot on the stove and turned the burner on low so the sauce could heat through. "I hope that's all right with you because I'm _starving_ and ziti's quick and easy."

Killian's brow wrinkled, and it soon became clear to Emma that he was trying to recall what ziti was. A moment later, his eyes lit up in recognition. "Ziti is like spaghetti, yes? Noodles of some kind?"

Emma smirked. "Yep. It's just a different shape."

"Then it's perfect."

That made Emma smile to herself. Of course he thought it was perfect. She was pretty sure she could have told him she was cooking roofing tiles and he would have told her it was perfect.

The pasta water was finally at a boil. She dumped the ziti into the pot, gave everything a stir, and stood back to wait.

Aside from the bubbling of the water and the occasional gurgle from Neal, everything was quiet. For reasons unknown to her, the silence struck Emma as unnerving. It took a moment but she finally understood what was bothering her: the absence of her brother's crying. Sweet mother of God, was she actually _missing_ baby wails?

_No_, she decided a moment later. She wasn't missing them, but after all his fussiness since her parents had left, his calmness now was making her a little uneasy. "How's he doing?" she asked after giving the cooking pasta another stir.

"The young prince is doing marvelously," Killian assured her. "He's calm as can be, watching your every move."

Emma turned around and sure enough, Neal was staring at her. Love coursed through her veins, love for this tiny little person who had already claimed a piece of her heart. She rounded the island to sit down next to Killian, smiling when Neal followed her movements. "Don't you worry, squirt," she murmured, running a finger down his little cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

Killian met her eyes, a look of gentle understanding on his face. "Are you saying that for his benefit or yours, love?"

Actually, it was a combination of both, along with a bit of saying it for Killian's benefit thrown in for good measure. The verbal promises were of course reinforcement for herself, little reminders that she was done running and that she was finally home, finally where she belonged. They were reminders that she had people who cared about her, people who _loved_ her.

There was no more innocent or wonderful reminder of her place within her family than the look of recognition and love on her baby brother's face. He trusted her completely, knew her by sight, knew her voice, and loved her with everything he had in his little body. The verbal promises, then, were also words of comfort to her brother, words to let him know that his trust and love weren't misplaced.

And the same went for Killian. She was done running from him, too, and he needed to know just as much as her baby brother did that his love wasn't misplaced, either. "It's for both of you," she said softly. "You need to know that I'm not going anywhere, too."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. And then, out of the corner of her eye, Emma noticed something miraculous: Neal was smiling at her, too.

She gasped, but the smile on her baby brother's face was gone a flash. "Did you see that?!" she exclaimed, standing up from the stool.

"See what?" Killian asked, blinking as if coming out of a daydream.

Emma sighed. Of course he hadn't seen it; he'd been staring at her. "The squirt just smiled at me!"

Killian frowned down at Neal before turning a perplexed look on Emma. Clearly he didn't understand what the big deal was. "He's still too young for a real smile, Killian. At least, I thought he was."

Now she had to get him to repeat it. She smiled at her brother while gently playing with one of his little hands. "Come on, squirt, I know you can do it. Give me another smile. Come on … come on ..."

And sure enough, the squirt smiled, clear as day. Killian and Emma met each other's eyes and grinned. "Told you," Emma said smugly, thrilled that she'd made her baby brother smile a second time.

A hissing sound drew her attention back to the stove. "Oh, shit!" she cried when she spotted the pasta pot boiling over. She dashed over to the stove and lifted the pot off the burner so the water could settle.

"You all right over there, Swan?" Killian asked, swallowing a chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm all right," she sighed, thumping the pot back down on the burner. "No more distractions, though, or we're not going to have any dinner at all."

A quick stir of the pasta told her that nothing horrible had happened to it while she'd left it unattended. Her mind flashed back to the time she'd gotten in major trouble for ruining a pot when she was eight while trying to make macaroni and cheese. She hadn't known that boiling pasta needed to be stirred. A layer of macaroni had burned on the bottom of the pot and no amount of scouring had loosened any of it. Her foster mother hadn't been happy at all, especially considering that Emma hadn't been allowed to cook on her own. Then again, if her foster mother hadn't forgotten to send her to school with a lunch and then sent her to bed without dinner for "whining," maybe she wouldn't have been trying to cook macaroni and cheese in the middle of the night in the first place.

Shaking off the memory, she focused on her dinner in the present. The meal came together quickly. She threw a salad together while the pasta finished cooking. After draining the ziti and tossing in the sauce, she poured it all into a big serving bowl, which she set on the table. While she got the dishes and glasses from the cabinet, Killian tried to set Neal down in the bassinet.

It didn't take. Neal fussed the second Killian let him go.

"Seriously?" Emma groaned. She stepped over to the bassinet and frowned down at her little brother. "Squirt, you've got to let us eat. Just give us a few minutes, okay?"

Wonderful. She was once again reduced to attempting to reason with a newborn, and once again, the newborn was winning. He sniffled and his eyes brimmed with tears, but it was the tiny little whimper that escaped his lips that made Emma's heart ache.

Dammit, she was _hungry_. She couldn't eat and cuddle the squirt at the same time. She needed a distraction, something that would hold his attention just long enough for her and Killian to eat. Something …

And then it came to her. Grinning to herself, she lifted him out of the bassinet. The second he was in her arms, he quieted. "Killian, will you bring the bassinet to the table for me?"

"Of course, love." She could hear the curiosity in his voice, which only made her grin in earnest. What she was about to do was going to impress the hell out of both of them.

Killian set the bassinet beside the kitchen table, positioning it so that Neal would still be able to see his big sister when she put him down. Emma smiled a thank you, and while Killian got himself situated at the table, Emma set Neal in the bassinet.

As she'd carried him, she'd been concentrating and focusing her magic. Before Neal even had the chance to whimper, she magically threw four balls of colored light up over the bassinet. Just as she'd hoped, her brother's attention was drawn to the lights, and Emma was free to sit down at the table with her pirate.

"You are bloody amazing, Swan," Killian murmured, half-transfixed by the magical light show himself. "Are you sure you're all right to hold the lights up there?"

He was right to be concerned. Her magic was still so new to her that sustaining it like this took a lot of energy and concentration. Holding the lights up for the length of even a quick dinner was sure to leave her exhausted, but the exhaustion would be well worth it. "I'll be all right," she assured him.

Just as she knew it would, the rush of the magic took hold after a minute or two. The rush was unlike anything she'd ever felt before; her heart raced, her blood rushed, and excitement coursed through her veins, making her feel giddy.

"Actually, watch this." One further moment of concentration was all that was needed to set the lights spinning clockwise. A glance at her brother proved that he loved it. "It's a light mobile," she said, grinning at Killian.

"Just like I said," Killian smiled, "bloody amazing."

* * *

After Killian and Emma had both eaten their fill of ziti and salad, he looked her over and smiled at her. "I can clean up, love. Go relax with your brother."

She smiled back wearily. The magical rush had long since dwindled and she had started having a hard time holding the lights. As a matter of fact, they'd flickered a couple of times, their intensity dimming until Emma could shore up enough concentration to brighten them again. Sighing in relief, she released the lights. "Thank you for offering to clean up, but I can't go sit just yet."

"No?"

"Nope." She stood, picked Neal up before he had a chance to fuss, and smirked at Killian. "The little squirt needs to be changed and put into his pajamas."

"Is it coming up on the royal bedtime?"

She swallowed a snicker at the teasing tone of his voice. "Yep. I'll be right back."

Emma carried her little brother into her parents' room and only then did she allow her shoulders to slump from the exhaustion. Holy friggin' crap, the mobile had left her _wiped_. She just needed to get through the next few minutes and then she'd be able to relax. "All right, squirt," she said, turning her attention back to her baby brother, "which PJs do you want to wear tonight, hmm?"

She opened the bottom drawer of his little dresser and poked through the garments. A smile lit her face when she found a pair of blue pajamas with tiny sailboats printed on the fabric. "What do you think, squirt? Are the boats okay?"

And right then, she swore she saw another smile. Oh, yeah, she was totally dressing him in the sailboat pajamas tonight.

A fresh diaper, the sailboat PJs, and one more dose of ear drops that went in far easier than the previous dose later, Emma emerged from her parents' bedroom with her sick baby brother in her arms. Killian had just removed the last remnant of dinner off the table. "I can do the dishes," she offered.

Killian grinned when he spotted Neal's pajamas but shook his head in response to her offer. "Go be with your brother for a while."

Emma was too tired to argue with him. She sent him a grateful smile and carried Neal over to the sofa. She finally allowed herself the luxury of sinking into the sofa cushions and started trying to soothe her sick little brother to sleep.

She soon came to find out that there was a problem. Just like she did herself, her brother came from pretty stubborn stock. The little squirt absolutely refused to allow his eyes to close. Not to be outdone by a newborn, Emma ran her finger up and down his forehead while cooing softly at him. "Stop fighting it, squirt."

Neal just stared at her.

Twenty solid minutes passed. Killian finished the dishes, put them away, and then eased down next to Emma on the sofa. "He's a stubborn one, hmm?" he whispered teasingly. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

"You shush," she whispered back, trying to hide a smirk. "I think I've almost got him."

Of course, she was nowhere near almost having him. Her baby brother was still awake and squirming and clearly had no intention of letting himself fall asleep.

Well, _now_ what? She supposed she could take him for a ride in the car; that had always knocked Henry out as a baby – according to her pretend memories, at any rate. The only problem was that Emma didn't have the energy for a ride in the car. She'd used it all on the mobile, and Killian couldn't drive.

What the hell did her parents do to get him to sleep? If Snow were there, she would have sung to him. _That_ was what she did … every night, she would sing him to sleep.

Was that what he was waiting for? A damn song?

And on some level, some absolutely horrifying level, she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. Her baby brother was indeed waiting for a song. Well, he could just keep on waiting because no way in hell was she singing. "Forget it, squirt," she said softly but sternly. "I know what you want, but that's where I draw the line."

Neal looked up at her with those big blue eyes of his and sniffled, and she felt her resolve weakening. _No_, she thought. She was not singing to him, but how could she look in those eyes and deny him a couple of soft verses?

Oh, he was going to be the absolute death of her, all right.

Emma didn't exactly know very many lullabies. As far as she could recall, she'd never had them sung to her, nor had she ever made a habit of singing them to anyone else. Even in her fake memories of raising Henry, all she'd ever needed to soothe him was a tuneless humming, no lyrics or actual talent required.

She knew plenty of random songs, though, so she racked her brain for a song that could conceivably used as a lullaby. Really, all the squirt needed was to hear a few lines of anything in a soothing voice and he'd be out like a light.

She started singing the first song that came to her, one she'd found mesmerizing even as a kid. "_Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn't you love to love her? She rules her life like a bird in flight and who will be her lover ..._"

The squirt lasted a verse and a half. Smiling, she let the song trail off, though she continued to caress his little forehead to give him the final push into deep sleep.

"You've a lovely voice, Swan," Killian whispered.

Emma looked up to find her pirate staring at her, looking positively enchanted. "Uh, thanks,"she said, blushing, "but don't get used to it. I don't sing like, ever."

"Which is a pity." He let the moment linger, and then asked, "Is she an enchantress?"

"Who?"

"Rhiannon. She's mysterious and elusive, from the sound of it. I'm betting she's an enchantress."

And just like that, the moment was broken. It was a song, for crying out loud, not a biography. At least, she didn't think it was a biography. "How the hell do I know?" Emma asked, rolling her eyes. "Do I look like Stevie Nicks?"

"Who's that?"

"She wrote the song and released it with a band called Fleetwood Mac …" She trailed off when it became clear from the perplexed look on his face that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Never mind. My point was, I don't know any more about Rhiannon than you do right now."

"Oh."

A few quiet minutes later, Emma decided that her baby brother was going to stay asleep. Gently, she stood, carried him into her parents' room, and set him down in his crib. "Good night, squirt," she murmured, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

Then she turned on the baby monitor and carried the receiver back into the living room. "What's that in your hand, Swan?" Killian asked as she sat back down on the sofa.

"The baby monitor. It'll let us hear him if he gets fussy."

Killian glanced from the open bedroom to the receiver in Emma's hand. "Wouldn't we be able to hear him anyway?"

"Probably," she admitted. Then she finally allowed herself to slump back on the sofa, fully relaxed. Holy crap, she was _exhausted_.

So, apparently, was Killian; he slumped back with her. "Taking care of a sick young lad is far more consuming than I realized, Swan."

That was certainly true. Although Emma hadn't expected the evening to be a walk in the park, she hadn't expected this level of bone-weariness, either.

Bone-weariness or not, though, she was glad she'd done it. She'd spent a nice, if busy, evening with the squirt and her pirate. What more could she have asked for? "Consuming, but worth it," she said, smiling tiredly up at him.

Killian smiled back at her as he tentatively wrapped his arm around her shoulders. This time, she didn't even tense at his touch, choosing instead to snuggle closer to him. "Right you are, love," he said softly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** We all kept our toothbrushes handy, yes? Good, because you're going to need them for this. ;) Thank you all for the follows and favorites and reviews for this little plotbunny driven four-shot. You guys seriously rock.

* * *

A completely refreshed Snow and Charming climbed the stairs to their apartment. Their dinner had been leisurely and delicious but nowhere near three hours long, so they'd gone for a walk along the harbor afterward since Emma would have kicked them back out if they'd gone home. They'd talked about everything and nothing, reminisces from the past and hopes for the future. They'd talked about Neal and Emma and oh gods, their Emma, how amazing it was to have her back after losing her twice. How wonderful it was that she was allowing herself to relax around them and allowing them in. How amazing it was that she had finally come home.

Those few short hours had allowed them to reconnect with each other on a level that had sort of gotten lost in the sleeplessness and exhaustion of caring for their newborn son and the worry over their same-age daughter.

It had been a nice evening, to be sure, but they both were relieved when Charming had checked his watch to find that it was almost nine-thirty. Their Emma-imposed time limit was officially up and now they could get back to both of their children without fear of reprimand.

"Don't take this the wrong way, because I had a marvelous time and I think we need to do these little date nights more often," Snow said to her husband as he stuck the key in the deadbolt, "but I sure am glad to be home."

"I am too," Charming replied softly, smiling at her.

Snow smiled back. She'd known he would understand. Both of their children were under the same roof, and he was as eager to get back to their little family as she was.

The silence on the other side of the door made Snow let out a breath of relief. Throughout the entire evening, the fear of coming home to find Emma frantic and completely overwhelmed by her baby brother's illness had tugged at the back of her mind.

Charming turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and stepped aside to let Snow enter before him. She stepped over the threshold and was about to announce their presence but stopped short. A smile curled on her lips as she took in scene in front of her.

Both Emma and Hook were slumped on the sofa, sound asleep. Hook had his left arm resting on the arm of the sofa while his right was curled around Emma's shoulders. Emma's legs were pulled up underneath her as she leaned into the pirate's side, her head resting against his shoulder and the baby monitor still in her loose grip on her lap.

Snow glanced up at the clock. It was only ten of ten, over an hour from Emma's usual bedtime. Perhaps she'd assumed that Neal hadn't run Emma ragged a bit too soon. Emma _and_ Hook, from the looks of it.

From behind her, Charming said, "Snow, what–"

"Shh," she replied, turning an amused smile on her husband and stepping aside so he could see past her into the living room.

His shoulders tensed at the sight of his baby girl sleeping quite comfortably in the pirate's arms, which forced Snow to swallow a chuckle. After the initial overprotective-father flash, however, a smile tugged at his lips as well. "I thought she said she was going to be fine," he murmured into his wife's ear, amusement clear as a bell in his voice.

"She did and she was," Snow murmured back, just as amused. The absence of the sounds of a fussing baby proved that Emma had successfully gotten her sick little brother off to sleep. "She must have had to call in reinforcements, though."

"Must have," he agreed with a smirk.

Charming eased the apartment door shut and hung both his and Snow's coats on the hook. Then they crept into their room to check on their sick baby boy. He was sleeping peacefully on his back, his little arms flung up on either side of his head. A gentle caress of his little forehead proved that even his low-grade fever was under control. "They did well," Charming murmured to Snow, his smile evident in his tone.

"They certainly did."

They both kissed their son good night and then tiptoed back out to the living room to figure out what to do about their other child. Neither Emma nor Hook was going to be comfortable curled up on the sofa for the night, but Emma looked so peaceful that Snow's heart clenched at the thought of waking her.

Her baby's comfort later won out over her serenity now. First things first: Snow slipped the baby monitor from her daughter's hand and set it on the coffee table beside Hook's hook. When Emma didn't stir at all, Snow moved on to Plan B. She eased down on the sofa next to her daughter and gave Emma's knee a gentle shake.

That got her to stir, her brow furrowing as her eyes slowly opened. Snow watched as her baby girl lifted her head and sat up straight, eyes dazedly searching the room. She waited until Emma's bleary gaze locked on hers before saying teasingly, "I thought your little brother wasn't going to run you ragged."

A little groan escaped her lips. "Ear infections suck," she mumbled groggily, making both Snow and Charming swallow chuckles.

Emma's movement roused Hook, who woke just as slowly as Emma did. After a moment, he guiltily removed his arm from around Emma's shoulders. Snow smiled to set him at ease. Charming would do enough parental threatening for the both of them; she supposed she could play the good parent tonight.

Plus, she couldn't deny how wonderful it was to see Emma relaxed and happy, and if Hook was the one who was making her happy ...

"Did you guys have a good dinner?" Emma asked. She didn't sound any more awake but she was rubbing her eyes to at least appear more awake.

"We did," Charming replied softly as he perched on the arm of the sofa next to Snow. "Thank you for pushing us to go, Emma."

Emma shrugged as if to say it was no big deal.

It _was_ a big deal, though. She'd taken on her brother's illness just to give them some needed time to themselves, and clearly, her night hadn't gone as smoothly as theirs. "And how did things go here?" Snow asked, hiding a smile.

"The squirt doesn't like the ear drops and he really likes being held," Emma said through a yawn. "Other than that, piece of cake."

Snow and Charming again swallowed chuckles, and then Charming turned to Hook. The entire room held a collective breath, and Emma shifted away from him as if only just now realizing how close they were sitting. In front of her parents, no less!

After a tense beat, Charming said, "Thank you for helping out tonight, Hook."

Emma blinked at her father, clearly wondering if she was still asleep and dreaming that he hadn't threatened Hook within an inch of his life. The pirate smiled in relief. "Of course, mate."

Snow glanced from an exhausted Hook to a just as exhausted Emma and smirked in realization. Waking them had been for naught; neither of them was moving off that couch any time soon. At least she'd let them know they were relieved of their babysitting duties. Now, it was time to let them be together.

She gently patted Emma's knee as she stood up from the sofa and grabbed the baby monitor from the table. "We're going to call it a night. Thanks again for doing this, Emma."

"You're welcome," Emma replied through another yawn.

Deciding for the sake of Emma's pride to skip the good night kiss, she settled for giving her daughter a loving smile. Then she grabbed her husband's hand and dragged him back into their bedroom. "I'm not even remotely tired," he whispered to her as soon as they were out of earshot. "What are you–"

"Shh, you'll see," she said as she drew the curtain across the doorway.

She left the curtain open a slit and peeked back out into the living room. Just as she'd suspected, Hook and Emma curled back up on the sofa together. Hook once again wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulders as she relaxed into his embrace.

"I'm going to kill him," Charming muttered as he peeked over his wife's shoulder.

"No you're not," an amused Snow replied.

Her statement was a truth Charming came to realize a moment later when Hook, who was saying something to their daughter that neither one of them could hear, began running his fingers through Emma's hair. The action relaxed her so much that her eyes fluttered closed again. "I don't think I've ever seen her so … comfortable," he admitted, his voice low in awe.

"I don't think I have, either," Snow agreed.

And right then, her husband's overprotective-dad stance fell away. "In that case, maybe he's not so bad. Not a word of that to him, though … I have a reputation to uphold."

"Yes, darling," Snow chuckled. Then she slid the curtain all the way to the doorjamb, allowing their daughter and her pirate their privacy.

* * *

As soon as the prince and princess said good night, Killian sank further into the couch cushions and smiled when Emma followed his movements. The evening had been rougher on her than she'd really been expecting. From the physical exhaustion of holding the mobile to the emotionally draining memories from her own childhood she'd had to face all while caring for her ill younger brother, she'd had quite the eventful few hours.

He'd figured she would have wanted to go to bed herself at that juncture but she surprised him. "You know what would be really nice right about now?" she mumbled.

"What's that, love?"

"One of your stories."

A grin curled on his lips. "Then a story is what you shall have."

They'd come to discover that Emma enjoyed his stories of the sea, mostly because she liked trying to figure out how much of each story was the truth and how much was embellishment. Her ability to detect lies made her remarkably astute, and he delighted in trying to push as many trumped-up details as he could past her, which was practically none.

The story he decided to tell her while she rested her head on his shoulder and he ran his fingers through her hair – a relaxation on her part that made his heart race – was one of a rogue wave that had nearly capsized the _Jolly Roger_ back when she was still the _Jewel of the Realm_. "This wave, Swan, it would have dwarfed the one we faced in Neverland. It was monstrous, taller than an ogre and a giant combined. It blotted out the horizon, and all any of us could see was wave."

He'd expected her to stop him at the obviously exaggerated ogre and giant line but she remained quiet. He glanced down, smiling when he saw that his story had worked a bit too well: Emma's eyes had closed. "Swan?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you want me to let you get some rest?"

"No." She fidgeted, forcing her eyes open. At first he thought she was trying to sit up but she once again surprised him by snuggling closer. "You're supposed to be telling me a story."

He hid a smirk at the vaguely accusatory tone of her voice. He had been telling her a story; she just hadn't heard any of it. "My mistake."

Her eyes drifted shut again as Killian's soft voice filled the room, weaving the same tale of the rogue wave since she hadn't heard it the first time. "It was my first storm at sea, and it was almost my last ..."

He kept talking, piling embellishment on top of embellishment. This time the wave was the size of an ogre standing on the shoulders of an ogre standing on the shoulders of a giant. Not that it mattered because he highly doubted Emma had heard a single word he'd said.

When he was finally out of breath – and story – he asked, "Emma?"

No response. He smiled; apparently the two of them were going to be spending the night out here. She was fast asleep, and he didn't want to move for fear of disturbing her.

Killian removed his arm from around her shoulders just long enough to draw the blanket down from the back of the couch and spread it out over the both of them. She stirred at the weight of the fabric but she didn't wake.

This wasn't exactly going to be the most comfortable night he'd ever spent but a night cuddled up with Emma Swan was completely worth the stiff muscles he was sure to have in the morning.

For a long moment, Killian just basked in the closeness with Emma, listening to her even breathing and resisting the urge to pinch himself because by gods, this was _real_. His own exhaustion got the better of him, though, and soon he was fighting sleep himself.

When his head nodded, his cheek coming to rest on the top of her head, he surrendered the fight, but not before murmuring, "Sleep tight, love."

And he smiled when just before sleep claimed him, he felt her shift against him, rousing slightly at the new contact. The smile grew wider when he heard her sleep-filled voice mumble, "You, too."


End file.
